Remembering Who You Are
by HiLife808
Summary: “What exactly are you trying to tell me?” I spat at him. “Well, I said your skirt is too short…” I all but bared my teeth at him. “And suddenly you’re the expert on skirts?” Ron gives me his sexy lop-sided grin. “Well maybe. I stare at enough of them…”


___________________________________________________________________

I looked into the mirror for the final time before it was time to leave. Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire, heading off to Hogwarts for the last time. Depressing, really. Even with the final battle over, this year was going to be a tough one.

"Well, this is the best its going to get Crookshanks."

I looked towards his cage next to my trunk and earned a well-timed yawn and stretch from the fuzzy feline.

"Boring, I know, but at least I've filled out some…"

I know it's the truth as I turn back towards the mirror. Gone now are the teeth and big hair for which I was also so famous for, and in its place were teeth that matched the rest of my face and hair that was tamed and shiny. It was going to have to do.

Getting to Kings Cross was a bit of a hassle but once I got through the barrier and onto the platform things started to calm down and got more familiar. Finding Harry and Ron wasn't a hard thing to do either, all I had to do was look for the crowd, and there they were. Having defeated the dark lord was going to take some getting used to. Having said our hello's we got onto the Express.

As we found an empty compartment Ron turned to look at me and said, " What _are_ you wearing?"

At a loss for words to the un-timed question Ginny came up just then from the back of the train to my rescue. "It's called a skirt Ron, a jeans skirt to be exact."

"You call THAT a _skirt_?" With eyebrows raised and face contorted Ron definitely didn't understand muggle fashion as well as Ginny did.

"Well I think its cute Hermione, nice choice in outfit…" Ginny cut in.

"Thanks Gin…" Although I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious at my choice in apparel.

Ron obviously wasn't finished with analyzing my wardrobe when he opened his mouth up again. "That's _not _a skirt. That's just a scrap of fabric, that's what that is…" his face turning red with either embarrassment or anger, I couldn't tell, but it was totally Ron and it was gorgeous.

"What _exactly _are you trying to tell me?" I spat at him.

"Well, I said your skirt is _too_ short…"

I watched as Harry and Ginny looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

This train ride definitely wasn't living up to my expectations.

I all but bared my teeth at him. "And suddenly you're the expert on skirts?"

As soon as the question left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Ron gives me his sexy lop-sided grin. "Well maybe. I stare at enough of them…"

Harry and Ginny took it as their cue to leave quietly and avoid the imminent war-zone.

I heard the compartment door click and suddenly I had the urge to do something evil.

I could've stunned him and put him in a body bind. Hermione Granger might not appear as much of a threat, but I'd been the top student at Hogwarts since my first year, and he knew what I was capable of. And right now, he was perilously close to getting dumped on his arse.

"You can stop looking at me like that…" He said. I didn't even realize that I was still staring daggers at him. I snapped out of my gaze and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm just saying it's a good skirt if you want blokes to drool all over you," he says, and then frowns momentarily down at the Daily Prophet in his hands, as if he's not satisfied with their content.

"What an insensitive git." I paused. "It's just like you to take that perspective. What makes you think I'm wearing this for anyone? I might be wearing this for myself." I give myself a pat on the back for my obvious triumph. Even though I know in the back of my mind who I'm trying to look good for.

He looks at me then, and for a moment, his expression is serious. "That look doesn't suit you."

I'm about to answer back at him, when he smiles and I turn into jello.

"Well seeing as we have about another 2 hours to go, I'm gonna get some sleep...wake me when it's time to change into our robes…" And with that he set the Prophet on the seat next to him and turns his head to the window with eyes closed.

Gritting my teeth, I resist the urge to pick up that Prophet and hit him on the head with it.

Why does he have to be so evasive? Why does he only treat me like a friend? I wish he knew that I wanted to be more than just his "friend". To him, I'm nothing more than that same little girl that he met during his first year. A little girl, old enough to wear whatever I wanted and old enough to know when a man's arse looks as good in jeans as his does. And I did notice. I was no longer that little girl with bushy hair and bucked-teeth.

"Whatever," I mutter quietly to myself.

The rest of the train ride goes off without a hitch, the only interruption in the break to change into our school robes.

___________________________________________________________________

The first few weeks of school flew by with a blur and everything was just as it should have been.

I was head girl and with it came the responsibilities that I expected. Although I did get one good perk with the status, a beautiful bedroom all of my own with my very own bathroom. The downside to this newfound seclusion was who I had to share the common room with. None other than _the_ Draco Malfoy who was also named head boy.

Although his name was cleared after the falling of the dark lord, he was still the same old Malfoy. Eager to sneer or hex me at the first chance he got. Not to my surprise when I told Harry and Ron that I had to start doing rounds with him they got worried and bargained for a way around it. Seeing as there was none, they just had to get used to it. After all, I survived the final battle and I was sure that I was capable of handling myself against Malfoy of all people.

The day soon approached when I was scheduled for my first nightly round with Malfoy. As I sat in the Gryffindor common room reading a book next to the fireplace I heard footsteps pad down the staircase from the boys dormitory.

"If you don't come back, I'm coming after you," he said, his tone light. I didn't glance up from my book. His light statement was anything but light to me, and I blushed behind my book hoping he didn't see.

"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself you know…" I tell him.

I know he's half joking and half serious. I'm forever telling both him and Harry that I can take care of myself, aren't I? Just then I look at my watch and its 10pm, time for my rounds.

I make my way towards the portrait hole and Malfoy is already there waiting for me. As I take one last look back towards the common room Ron says, "I'll wait here until you get back…"

"Took you long enough mudblood…" He drawls.

"Whatever." I reply non-enthusiastically. "Let's just get this over with…" and I walk away not caring if he's following or not.

This definitely wasn't supposed to be fun, but I already wanted to be back at the common room with Ron, even if it meant helping him do his parchments. I wanted to do everything with him, but the chances of that happening are about as fantastic as me actually developing hips. Another depressing thought.

Malfoy suddenly grunts to break me out of my thoughts to signal the end of the rounds. I didn't even notice that we were through because I was hardly paying attention. My mind was on a certain red-headed wonder.

As Malfoy leaves I wander back through the dark corridors towards the Gryffindor common room alone. My mind is still on Ron and I think back to what he said earlier. It really would be amusing if he actually came after me.

I let out a little chuckle. "Stop being an idiot," I chastise myself. "He was only joking," as I continue down the hall.

"Talking to yourself isn't healthy you know, they could send you to St. Mungo's for that..."

Startled out of my revere, I jerk my head up to meet a pair of green eyes.

"Probably," I speak more to myself than to Harry.

"How was your rounds with Malfoy?" he asks.

"Went off without so much as a word really…" I smirked, "I told you and Ron I could…--what are YOU doing out so late out of curfew?" I asked suddenly remembering why I was out so late to begin with. "You should be in the common room by now, sleeping…" I say, as a matter-of-fact.

"Well…," he says. "I-I wwaas just about to mmeeet Ginny." he stammered, the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"What were you going to meet Ginny---OH!" and it all clicked into my head. Ginny and Harry had been dating since right after we defeated Voldemort.

"Well I guess I'll see you at breakfast then…night!" Harry called back. His cheeks still a little rosy.

Then I was alone again to meander in my own thoughts. I was just a bit jealous that Ginny and Harry had each other and I had no one. I had friends, yes. Also the unsuspecting admirer before the Yule ball. But I never had the privilege of having someone to belong to.

After we defeated the dark lord and Ron kissed me, I thought that it would be the beginning to a relationship with him. It turns out that it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. I was hurt for a little bit but I understood that those types of things happen sometimes. More depressed now than I was at the start of my rounds I finally reached the fat lady.

"Fortuna Major," I said rather exhaustedly.

She swung open her portrait and I walked through the hole. Ron was sitting on the big comfy couch in front of the fireplace. Even through my annoyance disappointment at myself I still smiled inwardly at the sight before me. He was clad only in his sleeping pant and a t-shirt that hugged his upper body deliciously with a carton of ice cream and a spoon in hand. Then I remembered that none of that is mine and my disgust is immediately apparent.

Pausing in mid-dip of his ice cream he looks up and blinks sleepily at me. I move over to the seat next to him and unceremoniously plop myself down, snatching the ice cream and spoon from his hand. I jam the spoon into the unsuspecting cookies and cream and I swear I can see him cringe just a little.

After I have a bite I yank the spoon back out of my mouth and point it entirely too close to his face. I open my mouth to say something and close it back up again. There really isn't anything that I would say to him. Its things that I wouldn't even be able to admit to Merlin himself. I sigh again as I set the spoon back into the ice cream and relinquish hold of it.

I look back from the fireplace to him and I realize just how good he looks in that tight t-shirt. Why now of all times, does he have to be sitting on my favorite couch wearing that shirt? It's like Merlin is laughing at me because he looks so good, and I'm always going to be just the same old "friend" Hermione, nothing more.

I can tell that he's struggling with himself. He wants to ask me to go on and say it, but at the same time he wants to leave me alone. After knowing me for 6 years, he knows how ridiculous I can get once I start ranting. I can't help my temper, I suppose. Or maybe that's just a cop out.

Curiosity outweighs and he asks, "What's wrong Mione? Did Malfoy do something to you?"

"No…" was all I could give him. If he only knew what I was going through and how much it tortured me to sit here and be just his "friend".

I grabbed for the ice cream again and with my annoyance I jammed the spoon back in transferring all of my feeling into it. There was silence and the fire crackled as if it was uncomfortable in the silence too.

Ron nodded his head as if he understood and I decided that I needed to start remembering who I was to him and stop pretending that I could ever be more. I would save myself the heartache and forget all about it.

"You should've taken me," Ron breaks into my thoughts, yawning as he attempts to get some ice cream with his newly acquired spoon. My gestures are quick and annoyed as I wave my hands around, making it difficult for him. I shouldn't have to have a male bodyguard for anything. For him to suggest it only makes me further irritated.

He's pouting now because he couldn't get any ice cream, but I'm going to pretend I don't notice. All this time I've known him, and he still hasn't realized completely how his every movement affects me. But I ought to be used to it.

"This is a heads duty," I inform him, stabbing my spoon chest level.

"Besides, I don't _need_ your protection."

"I meant, _I_ would've shown you how to defend yourself in case you needed it, Merlin knows what I would give to hex Malfoy again…" he explains chuckling slightly. Finally he gets up to summon another carton of ice cream.

Watching the muscles of his back shift under his shirt as he turns, I bite my bottom lip and stare into the carton I stole from him. I might've asked him politely had he not been the source of my annoyance earlier.

But Merlin, why did he always have to look so good? And also so far out of reach.

"Mione?" I hear him say softly.

I jerk my head up, stare into Ron's bemused face, so close to mine. And I swallowed hard.

"You okay? Too much ice cream? Brain freeze?" He grins.

Forced to stare directly into his eyes, I don't speak at first. He has beautiful blue eyes, that give so much away and hold so much back. Now appearing concerned, he tries again, "Mione?"

"Umm... Yeah. Yeah, that's it." I stumble up from the couch and he laughs at me, shaking his head.

"For the smartest witch in the history of Hogwarts you sure are clumsy Mione.." he laughs again.

Mione. How easily the endearment comes from his lips when it means hardly anything at all. Just a silly nickname that only he calls me…All at once, I'm angry.

Eyes narrowing, I snap back at him, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asks again puzzled.

"Call me that. I don't appreciate it."

He shifts, rolling his shoulders in what seems to be an uncomfortable gesture. "I don't understand. It's never bothered you before. I don't mean anything by it, Hermione. I'm not trying to insult you or anything."

But all I can hear is 'I don't mean anything by it, Hermione', and the anger grows into hurt, pulling me into a dangerous area as aggressively insidious as quicksand. Why does he open up his beautiful mouth and say the most stupid things?

"Well…you just did," I say, my hands, my words trembling as I turn and hurry from the common room before he can say another word and head to my dormitory. Tears are streaking down my face as I break into a run to get away from what just happened.

Scrubbing furiously at my face I glare up at my reflection. I should've left well enough alone. I should've just told him good night and went to bed. Why, out of all the times that he's called me that, did it have to matter? I'm such an idiot. Why mess up a wonderful friendship over something as miniscule as that?

I sigh as I jerk my tie out of my school shirt and pull both over my head, flinging it in a fit of anger, not caring where it lands. The skirt goes next, much in the same fashion. I stop then, and stare at my reflection. Slim doesn't even begin to describe me. I'm practically skin and bones. My breasts are small and my stomach flat. I sigh again, sliding my nightgown over my head, knowing that none of this is ever likely to change. Even if it did, I doubt Ron would notice. He sees me as a friend he needs to protect. He won't notice that I'm a woman, not just another person, just another friend.

Sitting down hard on my bed, I realize I have to stop this. I can't keep doing this to myself. Pressing my fingers to my eyes until I can see nothing but white, I'm startled to feel tears slipping between them. It must be hormones. I'm not crying over Ron again. I'm not.

The knock at the portrait hole startles me, and I almost tumble off the bed.

"Hermione?" It's Ron, sounding unusually quiet.

If I say nothing and hold my breath, maybe he'll think I'm not in here and go away.

"Hermione. Bloody hell, open the door." Now he sounds frustrated.

Giving up the pretense of not being here, I sigh. "No. Go away…"

A moment of silence, and then, "That's not fair. Something is up, and I hate thinking that I did it."

If only he knew he did it every day without meaning to.

"Listen, if you don't open this portrait, I'm going to wake Malfoy up and ask him for the password! Don't say you weren't warned."

Unable to help myself, I laugh.

"There. That's better. Now open the door." He finished quietly.

He isn't going to let go of this one. I might've felt less threatened had I not known he could and would ask Malfoy for the password. So I was merely stalling the inevitable. Knowing that, I quickly wipe at my eyes in the hopes I wouldn't look like I'd been crying like a baby, and stand. Taking a breath, I ask the portrait to open.

There he stands. Still in his tight t-shirt and sleeping pant, still the same Ron, looking at me with concern. Had his dearest friend gone over the bend? Only over him.

"Have you been crying?" He advances, raising his hand, frowning severely now. "Did I do that? I'm sorry, I never--" I hold up my hand. "It's nothing. Just hormones," I add, uncomfortable with the proximity.

His hand drops at his side. "Oh…"

We stood there, staring at one another in heavy silence. One of us is supposed to say something, I'm sure, but the moment is awkward and I can't find the words. I want to retreat to my bed and drown out the sudden, intense longing with sleep. I know I'm a coward. It's better to be a coward, however, than to lose your best friend. So I pretend my heart isn't battering against my ribs as if contemplating escape, that my palms aren't sweaty, aren't itching to touch him.

Something changes without asking my permission. Ron's expression softens, and I swear his eyes have never been bluer. I feel as if I'm falling into them, as if I'm being swallowed whole. There's a faint, insistent buzzing sound in my ears as I take a hesitant step forward, not knowing what I'm doing entirely. Why is he looking at me like that? More to the point, why am I so close I could lay my head on his shoulder?

He smells of soap, musk, and ice cream. Such a sweet combination, that I want to wind my arms around his neck and rub my cheek against his chest. I'm close enough, I could reach into his hair, tangle my fingers in it. The thought ofrunning my hands through his hair has me suddenly hugging myself as I jerk in reaction. I feel like I'm ice caught afire just like the color of his hair.

"Hermione…" his voice catches on the 'e'. Oh Merlin. I've been staring at him like...Like I don't want to imagine.

He reaches for me. If he touches me, I know I'll break.

I skirt around him, hurrying from my room. "I'm going to...use the loo."

But his arm snakes around my waist, hauling me backward with such force that I gasp when I collide with him. I forgot how quick he was due to his Quidditch practicing.

"You can't look at me like that and run away…" He says breathlessly.

Before I can answer, he's whirling me around.

His lips are on mine, warm and demanding, forcing my mouth open so that I taste him. I want to struggle, to fight him and shove him away, but my legs have gone weak and mind numb. My arms are rubbery as I lift them to wind around his neck and my hands won't obey me. They wrap themselves in his hair anyway and vaguely, through the heat, I hear a moan. I think it was me.

"Merlin," he murmurs when he drags his mouth away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that to you."

"I…" I'm still stunned, and can only stare at him drowsily.

There's regret in his expression and the sight of it has my eyes stinging again, pleasure fading as the cold weight of reality settles in. I can't bear to have him tell me he shouldn't have done that.

"Wait."

I struggle. "Let me go."

"We need to talk about this."

"No! I'm not going to listen to you tell me you regret anything, Ron. So just let me go and we can forget all about it. Just like we forgot about it after we defeated Voldemort."

"The bloody hell I will. Because I don't regret a damn thing, and I'm _not_ going to forget it. You can pretend whatever you want, Hermione, but things have changed between us."

I'm outright crying now. "I don't want it to change, Ron. I don't want us to stop being friends."

He looks as if I've slapped him. "Please, stop... Don't cry, Mione," he's panicking now, and if I wasn't feeling torn up inside, I might be laughing at how comical it is.

"Just let me go…" I manage, averting my face.

"I can't do that," he answers quietly.

"Because I've dreamed too often of holding you like this, and now that it's a reality, I can't let go."

Jolted out of my self-pity, I stare up at him in amazed shock. It can't be possible that he's wanted me as badly as I wanted him. For a moment, I hold my breath in fear that Ron would suddenly say 'Fooled you!' and life would go on as it had. But he doesn't.

He stares at me, naked emotion plain in his beautiful, earnest face.

Holding him to me tightly, I say softly, "Then please, don't let go."

Slowly, the tension in him ebbs, and he releases a breath.

"Does this mean I can hope you feel the same?"

"You don't have to hope. Because I do... I only wish I'd realized you'd felt like me."

"We've got a lot of time to make up for," he agreed.

I glance up at him, smiling as I slowly step out of his embrace, grip the hem of my nightgown, and pull it over my head. His sharp intake of breath tells me he likes what he sees. It dashes any worries I might've had, and gives me the courage to walk back to him, melding my body to his. I never realized something so simple could feel so good. Slowly I peel off his shirt and his hands trace the length of my spine, curve beneath my butt, and pull me up and to him. Releasing an unsteady breath I want to indulge in my fantasy. He moves, once, twice, and weak, I tangle my hands in his hair and let my head fall on his shoulder. Backward. I just want to fall backward and lose myself in him.

"Take me to bed," I hear myself tell him.

"Hermione--"

"You aren't going to argue with me, are you, Ronald Weasley? Because I could make your life really hard." I mock him and he laughs.

"Never heard a woman tell a man she was making his life hell for _not_ taking her to bed before."

"Then you'd better carry me, because my legs aren't working." I say breathlessly.

Lifting me effortlessly, he lays me down on my bed with care, as if he's afraid I'll break. Bereft of warmth and suddenly self-conscious, I reach up to wrap my arms around me. The bed dips and his hands are on my arms, gently tugging them down.

"Don't," he says softly. And then his fingers smooth along my ribcage, rising higher to mold my breast. The expression on his face when I turn to look at him, is one of wonder and reverence.

"Ron…" I lift my arms out for him and he smiles, gathering me to him. I sigh then, resting my cheek against his chest. "We didn't turn out the lights."

"Don't. I want to see you."

I feel myself blush. "That--"

"Is exactly how it should be," he responds gently, rubbing his thumb along my cheek.

Closing my eyes, I surrender. I didn't lose my best friend after all...


End file.
